


I will be the one to watch you fall

by indoissetep



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Episode VIII speculation, Gen, Jedi Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indoissetep/pseuds/indoissetep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a mission on Coruscant, Finn runs into someone he knows all too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will be the one to watch you fall

**Author's Note:**

> A scene written for day 2 of Finn Week (Episode VIII speculation) over on Tumblr.

NPO-128b.

That is the extent of the intel Finn has managed to extract from his contact. It is for that single piece of information that the Resistance has parted with thousands of credits, one of its precious few remaining ships, and both its best pilot and best strategist for a week.

All worth it.

NPO-128b, a world so insignificant it hasn’t even been graced with a proper name. But, if that is the location of the First Order’s new base, the place where they plan to continue their stormtrooper training program, then that is exactly where Finn is headed next.

First, however, he needs to lose his tail.

He pull the lapels of his jacket up to better shield his neck from the cold, blasted rain, and takes the longer, more scarcely used path back to the hangar where Poe waits for his return. He winds his way through a maze of backstreets and dark, narrow alleys, trying to distance himself from the bustling avenues of Coruscant.

He has not seen the person pursuing him, but he feels their presence, a slight shift in the throbbing energy of the city, an obstacle disturbing the water droptlets’ rush towards the ground.

In a conveniently deserted and secluded alley, he stops and waits for his pursuer to catch up to him. The figure approaches soundlessly, like a cat on snow, and stops a few meters away. Finn turns to face it, manner casual and unpreoccupied, and knows her immediately.

He has never seen her like this before, chrome-plating shed in favor of inconspicuous civilian clothes. After all, it wouldn’t do to walk around the streets of Coruscant looking like an Imperial nightmare. But no matter, Finn would know her anywhere, armor or not, he knows her looming figure too well, the set of her shoulders, the iron-straight line of her spine.

“Fancy meeting you here, Captain,” he says, forcing his voice to remain light, even. “Shore leave?”

“FN-2187,” the voice is human, undistorted by a vocodor, but still unmistakably the one that haunted him for years, that still haunts his dreams at times.

“I think I’ve told you already, it’s Finn now,” he can’t stop a measure of anger from creeping into his words. Luke will chide him for sure.

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” says Phasma, and damn it if _her_ voice isn’t perfectly dispassionate, “I oversaw your training myself. The stormtrooper program can’t be seen to have failed.”

“So you’ve come to get rid of the evidence,” it’s not a question, but a statement of fact.

“Correct.”

Phasma’s wrists move almost imperceptibly, only the quickest flicker, and suddenly her hands are no longer empty. The dual vibroblades glint under the dim lights. Long, curved, wicked things, their low hum almost smothered by the sounds of the city. They are a silent, stealthy choice of weapons, but also – Finn ponders – an oddly intimate one. Finn would never be tempted to call his former captain sentimental, but he wonders if, when choosing her weapons for this mission, she didn’t think about looking him in the eyes as she struck the blow that ended his life. An appropriate end for a personal vendetta.

“Draw your weapon. I won’t fight an unarmed opponent.”

If the First Order had any honor, Phasma would be its bastion.

“Alright, but I should tell you,” he says, taking his time, “I’m training under somebody else now.”

He unclips the cilinder from his belt, it still surprises him, just how light it is. The simple push of a button, and the blade comes alive, vaporizing water droplets in mid-fall and smelling of ozone. It casts a purple glow all over the alley, over Phasma’s face, throwing it into sharp, unnatural contrast. Her expression is durasteel, it betrays nothing, but her pupils contract and Finn can sense the slightest shift in her aura.

“Ready when you are, Captain,” he says and waits.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
